I come from a family that rarely takes trips anywhere. When anyone did decide that they wanted to take a trip, they always went in groups, and always stood where they knew other family members or long time friends. Our trips consisted day trips to the Keys or a weekend stay in Palm Coast. On the very rare occasion, I mean Phantom Corsair rare, we took a flight to New York to visit (once again) family members and friends. In college, I took a couple trips with an ex-boyfriend of mine to Columbus, Ohio and Chicago, Illinois. I even took a last minute road trip to Richmond, Virginia with one of my really close friends.
My spring semester, I decided to take the plunge and finally make my dreams come true. In March of 2009, I flew to France and England completely alone. My first stop was Paris, France. By staying in hostels, I saved as much money as I could so that I could see it all: The Eiffel Tower, Sacré-Cœur, Versailles, the list goes on. I wanted to mingle like Parisians, so I hit up a bar with a Frenchman I had only recently met for a karaoke party. I ate French Onion soup in a gorgeous bistro, and sat on a bench right by the Eiffel Tower one evening to watch the light display. It was while I sat there on that brisk spring evening that I realized I’d never been as happy and content with myself as I was right then. I was alone, with the occasional passersby, and yet, oddly pleased.
Once in London I started the process all over again, this time with the help of a girl from New York I met on our tour bus. Through her, I met her newly made Hungarian friend and a fellow I will always refer to as “The Swede”. There was just too much to do, to see, to experience… I went on a ghost tour which started at The Sherlock Holmes Lounge Bar & Restaurant on Northumberland Street and passed by Benjamin Franklin’s house. The next day we went shopping and had dinner in China Town, to later go to the Zoo Bar, Blue Ruby, and Café Boheme. My new friend left the day before me, so I spent it visiting my favorite spots before I too had to come back to the States.
It’s one thing to see photos of places that are foreign to you; it’s a completely different feeling to see them in person for the very first time. I still long to return to France, if not to permanently move there, then for an extended stay of sorts. My only wish is that I had known more French than I did. I would have liked to have made more French friends. I learned that when going on trips, whatever your set vacation time, it never seems to be enough.